hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dreamwalker

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Event Log: Dreamwalker

Who: Everyone!
What: The Dreamwalker event
Where: In your comfy bed and your sleepy head.
When: May 16th-26th
Warnings: Good dreams, weird dreams, bad dreams, straight-up nightmares. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if things are going to be bad!

Have you been having trouble getting a good night's sleep? Tossing and turning, unable to rest those tired eyes? Or maybe you don't sleep at all, and never have. Not to worry! For a little while, you'll have no trouble at all falling asleep - in fact, as night falls, you'll find yourself overwhelmed with exhaustion whether you want to sleep or not. Lay down and rest your weary head, friends. Everyone could use a little extra sleep.

But what will your dreams bring? Something happy, images of a perfect day? Something hopeful, something you've wanted for a long time? Maybe you'll dream of anger, of the face of your worst enemy. Or maybe - just maybe - you'll have a horrific nightmare, and wake screaming, covered in cold sweat.

Not before others have time to see it, though. As you sleep, as you dream, the other residents of Hadriel, friends and enemies and people you've only met once, might find their way into your dreams. Or you might find your way into theirs - and then have to deal with someone's else's nightmares, or hopes, or anger. For the next ten nights, you'll find yourself either a host or a visitor, and no matter how you try you won't be able to stay awake once night falls.

Sweet dreams, Hadriel. Don't let the asshole fear gods bite.

► This log covers May 16th-26th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► You can't die in the dreams, but if you somehow manage to trip and fall and kill yourself getting out of bed, please report it on the death post.

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Firo steps forward and, when they're both through the entrance, lets the panel close behind them. "No light. Sorry about that. You'll have to feel along the wall." He knocks lightly on the wall to indicate where he is before he starts feeling his way forward.

The gun hadn't escaped Firo's notice as they were making their way into the tunnel. Now that they're out of danger (at least, for now), it seems like a good time to mention it. "I don't know how the rules work where you're from, but killin' cops brings down the law on all our heads. So don't use that on any of these guys, okay?"

"Didn't intend to. Just didn't want to be unarmed if trouble did start," Amos answers, easily. He'd mostly likely have hidden the moment too much trouble started, as he hates to fight, but he knows better than to be unarmed in a raid. He follows along with a hand trailing on the wall, sure-footed in the dark. He doesn't mind the dark and never has.

"Anything else, chief? You're calling the shots, here."

Smart, Firo can appreciate that. There's certainly the risk of other threats out in the world, too, so it always pays to be prepared.

He snorts, though there's a hint of gladness in it. “You’re more cooperative than a lotta my guys out there, you know.”

“My Family’s place isn’t far from here. If they didn’t raid that one first, maybe we can warn ‘em in time.”

"Hey, being cooperative's kept me alive. I ain't a free man, so when my boss-lady gives an order, that's what I gotta do if I want my leash to stay long."

Amos admits this freely: after twenty years he's comfortable with how his life turned out, and by now Kameko's "ownership" of him is a passing joke they giggle about while discussing the past. He still feels indebted to her, however, and so he's her man until he dies or she releases him from her service, whichever comes first.

"Unless you've got a tattle-tale, they probably haven't found your Family yet," he reasons, because it's rare the home front gets hit before the outliers, in his experience. A well-run crime syndicate keeps its home turf very well guarded and concealed, after all.

There are some people who think that such a binding tie to another person is a sign of weakness. Firo is not among them, and if it weren’t so dark, he’d plainly be smiling. It looks like somebody understands these things, and that gets him major points in Firo’s book. “Yeah, well, a lotta people could stand to learn that.”

A rat among the Martillos? Ordinarily Firo would bristle at such a suggestion, but… he can’t deny that their recent crop isn’t the most promising. Maybe a picciotto looking at a long stretch up the river got a little antsy and…

He doesn’t even want to think about it.

“We’ll find out. Should be soon, this tunnel isn’t that long and then Alveare's only—“ And right on cue, he feels the passage dead-end just ahead of him. …Or turn, rather. There’s no door where there should be, just a 90 degree pivot into yet more hallway.

“…What the hell?”

"What's up, chief?"

Amos hesitates behind Firo, uncertain in the dark and the unfamiliar territory. If trouble's about, he doesn't really want to run into it in this enclosed space. But Firo's tone seems to be more consternation than outright alarm...

“Something’s up. It’s not usually like this.” Nevertheless, Firo continues in the new direction at an even faster clip now. If something’s up, he wants to find out what it is.

Just as troubling is the bright spot of light at the end of the hall. Almost to himself, Firo mutters, “Shouldn’t be like that, either—that door can’t open from outside. Unless somebody took the whole wall apart…”

Dream logic, and Amos nods as he hurries along after Firo. After several nights of this, he's starting to wise up. But he doesn't know what happens if you tell anyone they're dreaming, so he keeps his mouth shut on that topic. "I hope we don't meet trouble." Though they very well might.

"Me too. But I doubt that's gonna help us."

The light grows bigger and brighter as they walk until, all at once, it seems to rush forward to swallow them. It disappears as suddenly as it expanded. When it does, they're out of the hallway and in a massive room of concrete and steel bars.

The cellblock in Alcatraz. Though the cells and tiers are empty, nothing is noticeably dusty or rusted--it's as if it were abandoned yesterday.

"...All right, somebody's gotta tell me what the hell is goin' on here." Never mind that he and Amos really seem to be the only people here. Firo whips his head around as if he's looking for someone to beat an explanation out of.

A prison. High security. It looks vaguely familiar but Amos has no idea if it's because he's seen it before or if all prisons just look the same. (Which for the most part he's pretty sure they do.) He turns to look around and to make sure their backs are covered.

"Beats me, chief. I'm just along for the ride."

Firo steps cautiously forward; he can't tell if it's just his wariness, but the sound of footsteps seems to reverberate overwhelmingly on the steel and concrete.

"We shouldn't be here." How is Amos so calm? Then again, maybe Firo should take a page from his book. Getting upset isn't going to help them at all.

"They say nobody's ever escaped, though, so I don't know how much luck we're gonna have gettin' out."

"...so you know where we are?" Amos asks, scanning the shadows. So far, nothing: just them. But that could change, quick as the scenery had, and Amos wants to be ready. He's calm only because that's how he operates, locked down already into a mission mindset. He runs all his worst work that way, cool-headed until it's clear he's totally out of all options. Then he panics, but only when it's clear he's about to die.

Firo nods grudgingly, “Yeah. It’s Alcatraz. Don’t know if they talk about it where you’re from, but it’s famous… no, infamous where I live.” Impressive on a criminal resume, if you got there the right way, but definitely not a fun place to be. Having not been sent there the right way, Firo has no warm or grateful feelings toward the place.

“I was there right before I got here, but it was almost full then. They couldn’t’ve moved everybody out that fast.”

"Oh! I know 'bout it. It's like a museum now, where I'm from, they don't use it anymore. Never been myself."

Amos not being very comfortable in prison-like places for obvious reasons, it's just never been a sightseeing destination for him. "You were in Alcatraz? Visiting or inmate, my good friend?"

"A museum?" He forgets to keep quiet, and his disgusted voice echoes. "Anybody'd be crazy to go in there willingly."

...Then again, that is kind of what he did.

He shakes his head and reins in his volume to answer the question. "Inmate."

A pause. "Don't get impressed or anything--it wasn't actually 'cause of something I did. Not that I'm innocent," he scoffs. Everybody tries to pull that crap, and he's not going to waste his time when he knows he's done wrong.

"Okay, now I definitely wanna hear that story, sometime. I'll swap you the time I nearly got lynched in Arizona."

Amos doesn't like the way the echoes run around: too much space, so many hiding places for whatever might decide to eat them with big sharp teeth. Or maybe Firo's world doesn't have those...but his nightmares just might.

Amos hopes not.

Firo considers a moment. How much should he really share about that whole thing, anyway? He doesn’t have a cover to keep anymore, but a lot of it—his cooperation especially—is just plain embarrassing. At the same time, he supposes he should’ve been more subtle from the start if he was aiming to keep it all under wraps. He could at least share some of the weird stuff about Huey.

“It’s not a very fun story, but you’ve got a deal. If you really don’t mind sharin’ something like that.” Firo wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Even if now's not the time for stories, Firo's wondering if he should offer to start--and then there are several rifle shots off in the distance.

"They do that to freak us out sometimes, but..." Could something be happening? A few more happen, close enough to reverberate around in the cell block. Firo quickens his pace and looks over to make sure Amos is starting to run. "Damn it, we have to go! They'll shoot us just for bein' here, so it doesn't matter if we run or not." They're still screwed if they're caught--might as well speed up to escape.

The first sound of a gunshot has Amos flinching aside, swerving like a nervous horse. He doesn't stop moving, either: as more shots follow and Firo starts moving, Amos is hurrying right behind. Getting shot is high on his list of 'things I never want to do again', thank you very much.

"Great, so let's scram."

He keeps the pistol out, and adds, "It'd be just our luck if there's a riot going on."

"If there is, we're probably fucked." Mercy has no place in prison. Especially not in this one.

"The hole's this way. We'll get shredded if we go out the main gate, and the yard's a dead end." He doesn't slow his running, but he pauses to catch his breath. "Could get cornered in the tunnels too, but it's our one shot. They might not go down there."

Considering everyone's chained to the walls, it's the least likely place for trouble.

[ooc: Should we have them wake up soon or continue? If the former, any preferences for how it happens, like with them getting captured or attacked?]

"Right, you know where you're goin', chief. I'm just followin'."

Amos tends to do better at that anyway. It's not so much he isn't capable - he is - but he prefers to follow along. It's easier. He looks around nervously before he hurries along after Firo.

(OOC: Probably best to wrap it up: I'm always a fan of dramatic-death-wakenings for maximum funsies, but I'm good with whatever you like!)

"This way." Firo rounds one end of the cellblock and, just where it should be, is the heavy metal door. Behind it, he's sure, are the stairs leading into the underbelly of Alcatraz. The dungeon within a dungeon--it's weird that it almost seems like a refuge now.

Heavy footsteps echo behind them, impossibly close considering there was hardly a sound just seconds ago. Firo curses under his breath as he turns to look at them--

And sees nothing, because the prison falls away around them, and then he's toppling through empty space right up until he opens his eyes and wakes up.

[ooc: Okey dokey! If you need me to change something, let me know.]

Amos follows....and falls.

And sits bolt upright in his nest of blankets and pillows with his heart pounding.

Well, now he's awake!

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Event Log: Dreamwalker

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